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Obscure by Birth, renown'd by Crimes,
At length the turns a Bride ;
And flutters in her Pride.
So have I known those Insects fair,
Still vary Shapes and Dyes ;
Then painted Butterflies.
On Mrs. BIDDY FLOYD.
THEN Cupid did his Grandfire Jove intreat
To form some Beauty by a new Receipt, Jove sent and found far in a Country Scene, Truth, Innocence, Good-nature, Look serene ; From which Ingredients, forft the dex'trous Boy Pick'd the Demure, the Aukward, and the Coy; The Graces from the Court did next provide Breeding, and Wit, and Air, and decent Pride ;
These Venus cleans'd from ev'ry spurious Grain
APOLLO outwitted. To the Ho
nourable Mrs. Finch, under her
Up to the Northern Tropick came,
Attending on a Royal Dame.
The God laid down his feeble Rays,
Then lighted from his glittring Coach, But fenc'd his Head with his own Bays,
Before he durft the Nymph approach.
Under those Sacred Leaves, secure
From common Lightning of the Skies, He fondly thought he might endure
The Flashes of Ardelia's Eyes.
The Nymph, who oft had read in Books,
Of that bright God whom Bards invoke, Soon knew Apollo by, his Looks,
And guess’d his. Bus’ness e're he spoke.
He, in the old celestial Cant,
Confess'd his Flame, and swore by Styx, Whate'er she would desire, to grant ;'
But wise Ardelia knew his Tricks.
Ovid had warn'd her to beware
Of stroling Gods, whose usual Trade is, Under Pretence of taking Air,
To pick up Sublunary Ladies.
Howe'er, she gave rio flat Denial,
As having Malide in her. Heart; And was resolv’d, upon a Triala in
To cheat the God in his own Art.
Hear my Requell, the Virgin said;
Let which I please of all the Nine Attend whene'er I want their Aid,
Obey my Call, and only mine.
The God could not refuse her Pray’r:
Thrice mutter'd something to the Air.
And now he thought to seize his Due,
But the the Charm already try'd, Thalia heard the Call, and few,
To wait at bright Ardelia's Side.
On Sight of this Celestial Prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay, Nor in her Presence durft be rade,
But made his Leg, and went away.
He hop'd to find some lucky Hour,
When on their Queen the Muses wait : But Pallas owns Ardelia's Pow'r, iu
For Vows divine are kept by Fate,
Then, full of Rage, Apollo spoke,
Deceitful Nymph, I see thy. Art: And tho' I can't my Gift revoke,
I'll disappoint its nobler Part.
Let stubborn Pride possess thee long,
And be thou negligent of Fame ; With ev'ry Muse to grace thy Song,
May'lt thou despise a Poet's Name.
Of modest Poets be thou first,
To filent Shades repeat thy Verse, Till Fame and Eccho almoft burst,
Yet hardly dare one Line rehearse.
And last, my Vengeance to compleat,
May you descend to take Renown, Prevail'd on by the Thing you hate,
A Whig, and one that wears a Gowni.
* Impromptu, To Lady WinChelsea.
Occasion d by four Satyrical Verses on
N vain you boast Poetic Names of yore,
And cite those Sapbo's we admire no more : Fate doom'd the Fall of ev'ry Female Wit, But doom'd it then when first Ardelia writ. Of all Examples by the World confeft, I knew Ardelia could not quote the beit ; Who, like her Mistress on Britannia's Throne; Fights and subdues in Quarrels not her own. To write their Praise you but in vain essay ; Ev'n while you write, you take that Praise away : Light to the Stars the Sun does thus restore, But shines himself till they are seen no more.